I heard the author Mary Carr say early this morning that nature means nothing to her.
Wow, that woke me up!
Nature means everything to me.
I know she grew up in a very harsh environment with alcoholic parents and the core of her existence was chaotic. On the other hand, I grew up in a loving wave of comfort and safety - and the wonders of the natural world were highlighted daily. Mother constantly pointed out the nuances of beauty each day, so the absorption of nature around us became as natural as breathing.
I understand how privileged I have been, nature-wise, all my life. I have fed off the beauty of the farmland and creek beds of Lancaster County, the forests of the Adirondacks, the rolling splendor of the Shenandoah Valley, the high wide skies of Kansas, the rocky crash of Newfoundland and now the last thirty years of Reston's architectural and natural exquisite construction. My soul is sated with beauty.
If I go to a city of concrete, steel, rushing people and traffic, lights, buildings, noise - cacophonies of the senses, I love it. For a day or two.
Beyond that I grow lean with longing for the sass of a jay, the disappearing twitch of a squirrel's tail, the crunch of leaves underfoot, the hard high blue skies, the lake diamonded in the rising sun, the scent of decaying wood - organic life coming at me straight from the source.
I'm a country girl, through and through.
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